Doggie Style!
by Pumpkin Head Jones
Summary: Brian wakes up in the alleyway of some strange city--in a human body! And what's more, he's found and taken in by none other than Stewie--in adult form! And when sexual tension begins to mount, what's a poor dog to do? YAOI, LANGUAGE, LEMONS
1. No More Fur

hey, friends. How goes it?

This little plot bunny crawled up into my head and has been chewing on my brain for some time. So I thought, hey, I'll give it a try.

Um...I'm not just positive that anyone will read this. But hey, one can hope, yeah? We'll see how it all turns out.

WARNINGS: yaoi/slash (malexmale love), future lemons, swearing, cliche dialogue, slight plotlessness, and whatever else i wanna write about

Mkay, so it is my honor to present the first chapter of Doggie Style!! Here goes nothing, yes? Yes!

1.) No More Fur

Cold. Shivering. Wet.

"Ugh..." Brian groaned, slowly opening his heavy lidded eyes. Slowly, his surroundings came into focus. He was sitting with his back against the brick wall of an old building, in some dark alleyway. He could hear passersby bustling at the mouth of the dark street, completely unaware of his presence. "Where...where the hell am I?"

Sighing, he rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, then combed his fingertips through the long mane of white-blond hair, which cascaded down from the crown of his scalp in thick, wavy locks. What the hell was going on? Why the hell was he sitting all alone in some strange alley in some strange city?

And why the hell did he have thumbs?

Gasping, Brian's gaze shot back down to the foreign appendages in his lap. Sure enough, instead of the paws he'd come to expect to be attached to his arms, two five-fingered hands rested there.

"What--what the hell?" he shouted, straightening his elbows and holding his new appendages at arm's length. His eyes grazed up his furless arm, up to his round, smooth shoulder, then down his exposed chest, adorned with two dusty-pink nipples, resting on his bare, exposed lap. He began to run his hands over his smooth, furless skin, checking to see if this weren't just some weird dream or hallucination. No such luck.

He was Human.

In a panic, Brian sluggishly got up to his feet, stumbling awkwardly toward the main mouth of the alleyway. He was completely unaware of where he was going or what he planned to do when he got there, but he couldn't just sit still till he starved against a wall like some homeless guy. He had to find Peter or Lois...

"Help...Help!" he cried hoarsely, stumbling about like a toddler or a drunk into the main road. His pleas were met with screams of "Pervert!" and "Exhibitioner!" Brian had not taken into account that his nakedness would now be alarming to passersby.

"Please, someone, help me! I'm looking for a fat man with glasses and a redheaded woman! Please--" He grabbed the shoulder of a woman, who screamed, "EEK! Pervert!"

"Get your hands off my girl, you freak!" came a formidable voice from beside her, and the next thing Brian knew, he felt a strong fist meet the side of his face with great force. Crying out in shock and pain, Brian stumbled to the rain-soaked ground. His assailant spat on his cheek and stepped over his quivering body. Groaning, Brian rolled over to his back and tried to sit back up, but his efforts were to no avail. Finally, he sighed and stilled his aching new body, his vision blurring once more.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He almost didn't hear the voice from above him. He forced his eyes to open once more, to see a face hovering about two feet above his own. His addresser had a round face, which was twisted into a comfortable scowl, and shockingly red hair, which was haphazardly combed back. Pieces of it hung down, partially masking the sharp angles stranger's sour, but not unpleasant face--

Wait. Brian recognized that scowl.

'No,' he thought uncertainly, 'it couldn't be...Could it?'

"Hey, are you dead, or what? Answer me." That lisp. That unmistakable lisp. Brian knew for sure now.

"S-Stewie?" he groaned, his eyes going once more out of focus.

"Huh?" the stranger said in a shocked tone. "How the hell do you know my name?"

That was the last thing Brian heard or saw before his vision succumbed to black.

BREAK!

A'aight, there it is, my first little installment to doggie style. This chapter was kinda hard to write, but it'll get better from here.

Each installment should be a little longer than this one from here on out as well.

Well, that's all i have for now. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.

Thanks for choosing my story!


	2. RupertRhode Island Redux

Yo yo yo, friends and future friends!

I was gonna wait a few more days to post this chapter, but I'm to excited about all the cuteness!

Please enjoy this exciting (and slightly longer) second installment in the Doggie Style saga!

DISCLAIMER: no ownie, no sue-y

PS, this chapter is MAJORLY cheesy! But I love it!

Mkay, enjoy!!

2.) Rupert/Rhode Island Redux

Soft. Warm. Fuzzy.

'Where...where am I?' Brian slowly regained consciousness, leaving his eyes closed as he sensed the bright light from beyond his eyelids. Groaning, he shifted his stiff body in the soft, mysterious comfort that enveloped him. He could only assume he was in a bed. But it wasn't Peter's and Lois's bed. No, this bed was much softer, with more pillows propping his aching head and neck up.

'Well, so much for hoping this was all some realistic dream. But if this is not Peter's and Lois's bed...then whose bed is it?'

"Ah, I see you are finally stirring." Brian's eyes shot open in alarm at the familiar voice, only to be temporarily blinded by the rush of light into his pupils. All he could see was the shadowy outline of a round head peering down at him, a halo of light surrounding its messy red tresses. Gradually, Brian's vision came back into focus, and he was finally able to get a good look at his savior.

The man had a delicately sharp nose and mouth, and two large, round eyes--squinted though they may have been in a well-practiced glare. His cheeks, however, were round and softly curved, a lovely dichotomy to the more strikingly angular features of his face. His skin was pale and smooth, and his round chin was clean-shaven. Atop his head were a mass of wavy red locks, which hung down in his face as he leaned over the edge of the bed to glare at Brian. He had a thin, lithe frame, which was shown off by his apparel--a pair of fitted red jeans and a tight mustard-yellow tee shirt with some obscure band name printed asymmetrically across the front. Brian could only stare in silent shock at the uncanny likeness the stranger had with--

"Alright, I saved your sorry ass last night," the stranger began, "so I demand an explanation. How the hell do you know my name?"

Brian broke his gaze at the command, completely dumbfounded. "Um, excuse m--?"

"Last night, before you passed out, you said my name--or, rather, the name my insufferable Mother called me when I was a toddler. No one has called me Stewie for ages." He said the name Stewie with an added bite of contempt. "Now, how is it that you know who I am?" He glared expectantly at Brian, who could barely even form a coherent thought.

So...it WAS Stewie. Brian's head was spinning. All this...change. It was just all too much to take in at once. He looked back up to the man--at Stewie--hovering above him.

'Oh, there is NO WAY Stewie's gonna believe this. Hell, I don't even believe this!' Sighing, Brian sat up in the bed, careful not to let the quilt that covered him slip and expose his privates (an impulse he never had as a dog).

"Um, okay, so...it's like this, alright?" Brian began, already at a loss for what to say next.

"Look, you're not some creepy stalker-type, are you?" Stewie sneered in his snobbish air. "Because I've hardly got the time to indulge yet ANOTHER fanatical suitor. Go faun over Collin Ferril, or some other young hip actor." Brian scoffed.

"Don't think so highly of yourself, Princess," he retorted, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't back at home, swapping witty banter with an evil infant. Stewie puffed up like an angry bird in response.

"How dare you speak to me in such a manor! You should be worshiping the very ground I walk on for what I've done for you!" Stewie shouted, incensed. "Now, I DEMAND that you tell me how you know me, or it's back on the streets with no cloths and no allies! Do I make myself clear?" Brian sighed and broke eye contact with the indignant Stewie, racking his brain for a possible explanation.

'Oh well, here goes nothing,' he thought solemnly.

"Um, okay, so, do you remember when you were little? And you had a little bear?" Stewie nodded slowly, arching one eyebrow in suspicion. Brian took this as the okay signal to continue. "Well, his name was Rupert, right?"

"Yes...yes it was," Stewie said articulately, eyeing Brian as though he could see straight through him.

"And, um, you always wore a red jumper and a yellow shirt, like, everyday, right?"

"Alright, look, I'm real flattered that you're all obsessed with me," Stewie interjected, "but the fact that you even know about my childhood just goes WAY above and beyond the call, don't you think?"

"I'm not you're freakin' STALKER, Stewie, I'm your--uh, well..."

"My...what?" Stewie prodded, impatience clear in his voice. Brian let out a feral growl as his reserve snapped.

"Dammit! Alright, so your name is Stewie Griffin; you hate your mother, Lois; you spent most of your early childhood plotting her death; your bear, Rupert, was more than just a bear to you--he was a partner-in-crime; you and I--er, and your talking dog, Brian--were forced to hop a freight train home from your grandmother's house after our--um, your--plane tickets got stolen; you hate vegetables--"

"Wait a minute..." Stewie said slowly, "How...how do you know about my trip home from my Grandmother's house? No one knows about that...no one except..."

"It's...it's me, Stewie," Brian said, peering up into the redhead's perplexed eyes. "It's Brian." Stewie blinked. Then blinked again.

Then laughed. A lot.

"Oh my god, that is rich! You--you really expect me to believe that you're my childhood pet incarnate?"

"Um, yeah," Brian replied weekly. Stewie got his laughter under control and looked at Brian.

"Oh come on, you aren't serious!" Stewie cried, looking at Brian incredulously.

"No really, I am!" Brian replied urgently. "I mean, what else can I do to show you I'm not lying--or, or crazy?" Stewie eyed him untrustingly for several seconds before his brows knitted in confusion.

"You're not...I mean, you're really serious, aren't you?" he said at long last.

"Uh, yeah," Brian said, surprising himself. "I guess I am." There was a brief silence between the two, in which they silently appraised one another. 'Dammit, there HAS to be someway I could show him--' Suddenly, Brian had a brilliant idea. Taking in a deep breath, he began to hum a tune. A familiar tune. One that only two people in the world could know.

"We're off on the road to Rhode Island," he sang quietly, his deep baritone voice rumbling in is chest. Stewie's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped in shock. Then, he timidly replied:

"We're having...the time of our lives." His tenor voice rang shakily in the air.

"We're quite a pair of partners, just like Thelma and Louise..." Brian sang, only this time louder and with more confidence. "'cept you're not six feet tall--"

"Yes! And your breasts don't reach your knees!" Stewie exclaimed excitedly. A small smile appeared on the corners of the redhead's mouth, growing with each verse rendered.

"We're off on the road to Rhode Island!" they sang together, harmonizing flawlessly. "We're certainly going in style."

"I'm with an intellectual, who craps inside his pants," Brian sneered, earning a punch in the arm from Stewie.

"How dare you!" Stewie spoke in mock-indignation. "At least I don't leave urine stains on all the household plants!" Stewie's smile was now a full-on grin, and Brian could swear, if he were still a dog, his tail would be wagging now.

"We've traveled a bit and we've found," they sang together, crescendoing as they neared the pique of their duet, "Like a masochist in Newport we're Rhode Island bound!" Immediately upon finishing the verse, both men toppled over on the bed in uproarious laughter.

"Oh my god, Dog, I can't believe it's you!" Stewie choked in the midst of his feverish giggles.

"You think YOU find this hard to believe?" Brian laughed, "I'M the one wearing a new birthday suit!" Stewie chuckled and stared at Brian for a moment. Brian shifted uncomfortably under his old friend's scrutiny. "Erm, what? Do I have something on my new nose?"

"No..." Stewie said thoughtfully. "Um, Dog, let me ask you something."

"Eh, what is it?" Brian asked nervously.

"Now that you're Human...What are you going to do? Are you going to just accept it? Or are you going to try to go back?" Brian sighed.

"Hell if I know," he said, running his fingers through his long hair. "I...I guess I'll just...wait it out, you know, see what comes of all this." Stewie nodded, still staring at the former dog thoughtfully.

"Well, I guess it's settled, then," the redhead said with finality. "I suppose you'll have to stay here with me." Brian looked up at Stewie in mild surprise.

"Boy, you sure have mellowed," he said disbelievingly. "You do realize that by letting me stay here, you'd be doing me a FAVOR?"

"Silence, Dog," Stewie retorted pompously, "and accept your handouts graciously!"

"Yeah, yeah," Brian chuckled. "Okay, so I can just sleep on the couch--"

"Oh, don't be silly, Dog. This is my guest room. You can sleep in here for the time being. Sadly, I do not own much in the way of clothing that would be suitable for your, erm, broad stature, but I get paid this Friday, so I'll take you on Saturday to buy a few things--shirts, pants, slacks, oh, and a nice interview suit. You're going to need to find a job and help pay rent."

"Oh, I couldn't let you buy me cloths--" Brian began to protest.

"Don't be silly, Dog," Stewie interjected. "You need cloths--you're Human now. You can't just go gallivanting about NYC in your--what did you call it?--'birthday suit.'"

"Um, well...okay," Brian finally conceded, letting out a loud and unexpected yawn. He hadn't realized how tired he was.

"Well, today has been an emotionally draining day," Stewie said. "Get some sleep, and we'll talk more tomorrow morning before I go to work, okay?"

"Okay..." Brian yawned, closing his eyes and drifting slowly toward Dreamland.

"Hey...Brian?"

"Yeah?"

A pause. Then, "...I missed you."

With that, Brian fell into a deep slumber.

BREAK!

YAY, another installment completed!

I must say, this story is coming quite naturally to me. I'm very pleasantly surprised with the fruits of my labor thus far. So cute and fluffy and cheesy!! XD

PLEASE REVIEW! More positive reviews = faster chapter updates = sooner we get to the LEMON!!

And that's what we're all here for, right? Am I right? That's what I thought XD


	3. Catching Up

Alrighty, thanks for all the favorite and alert adds! It really motivates me to keep writing when I know people are actually reading my shit! XD

But PLEASE review. I really have no idea how I'm doing without a little feedback. It'd really help me out to know where I stand.

DISCLAIMER: Back, foul plagiarism! I disclaim-eth thee!

3.) Catching Up

The following morning, Brian was awoken by the tantalizing aroma of bacon and eggs. Salivating, he sat up and stretched his slowly awakening back and arm muscles. Once he was good and stretched, he threw the comforter off of his new hindlimbs and placed his new feet on the cold hardwood floor with a little hiss. He then pushed himself off of the bed and walked into the guest bathroom, pausing in front of the floor length mirror to stare at his new body.

He was tall--taller than average, about 6"3, with naturally broad shoulders, covered in taught muscles. He had a powerful chest and strong thighs, good for heavy physical activity. His pale, fair skin stretched tightly over his muscles. His face was strong and angular, with a prominent nose and sharp, black eyes. His lips, however, were large and puffy, almost like a woman's. His hair was white-blonde, and hung shaggily down, almost to his shoulders.

"Are you awake yet, Dog?" came a call from outside his bedroom door. "Breakfast is ready."

"Yeah," he called back. "Um, is there anything I could, you know, throw on? It's a bit chilly to be walking around naked."

"Check the recliner next to your bed," Stewie answered. "I put some sweats and a tee shirt in the seat. Get off your lazy ass and get dressed! Meet me in the kitchen when you're done."

Brian did as he was told, jumping into the grey sweat pants and plain black tee shirt left for him. He then walked out into the hallway, following his still somewhat acute nose to the kitchen. There he found quite a site: Stewie standing, back to Brian, stirring a sizzling pan of what smelled like bacon. He was wearing a large white tee shirt that hung off his shoulder like a toddler, and a pair of gender-neutral solid red pajama bottoms.

"Wow, Stewie, are you...COOKING?" Brian asked incredulously. Stewie turned around to sneer in reply, only to reveal his yellow KISS THE COOK apron.

"Oh my God," Brian choked, doubling over in laughter. "That is just priceless!"

"Silence, you miserable cur!" Stewie hissed in indignation. "Need I remind you that you could still be on the streets, were it not for my selfless charity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Brian chuckled, sitting down at the breakfast nook table and picking up the newspaper in front of him. He began to graze over the local news section, but was distracted when a mountain of eggs, toast, and bacon were placed in front of him. He could feel his mouth watering as he picked up a fork and began to shovel food into his mouth.

"Hey, Shh-tewie, dish ish relly good!" Brian said between hearty bites, looking up at his old friend, who was sitting in a seat across from him at the table with a plate. Stewie scrunched up his nose in disgust at Brian's boorish display and snatched the newspaper from his grasp, fishing out the section he wanted.

"Slow down, Brian, or you'll choke," Stewie scolded, pushing a mug of black coffee in front of him. Brian accepted it, grabbing it by the handle and downing half of the hot liquid in one experienced swig. He then wiped his mouth on the crook of his arm and looked up from his quickly depleting pile of food.

"Say, Stewie," he began in a calculating tone.

"What is it, Dog?" Stewie asked, looking up from the paper.

"Um, just what do you do? I mean, for a living? Judging from the two-bedroom apartment in the heart of NYC, you must be doing pretty well for yourself. Haven't taken over the world, yet, though." Stewie laughed.

"Actually, I'm a litigator," Stewie replied. "I make a living off of the dishonesty of others."

"That seems appropriate," Brian chuckled. "So, tell me more. How are Peter and Lois? And what about your brother and sister?"

"The Fat Man is still bouncing around from job to job. Lois is still an insufferable woman, and a housewife. Not much change there."

"And your siblings?" Brian pressed.

"Well, Meg is a high school counselor, if you can believe it," Stewie replied, "and Chris is an illustrator." Brian whistled.

"Huh, I'm impressed. I always thought Chris would never amount to much. And I half expected Meg to off herself by now."

Stewie laughed heartily and asked, "I'm guessing you want to know about everyone else?"

"Sure, lay it on me."

"Okay. Quagmire got 'saved' in prison and became a minister."

"You're joking," Brian said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I wish I were," Stewie sighed in disgust. "Oh, and Cleveland won a large reward in a civil suit of some kind. He's living pretty now, with more money than his simple mind could ever spend. Stayed on Spooner Street, though, for whatever reason..."

"And what about Joe?" Brian asked.

"Joe retired from the force with all sorts of honors and metals and such. He's living off a sizable pension. Still super intense. Still more physically active than any of his comrades."

Brian smiled and mulled over everything Stewie had told him. So it seemed everyone was doing okay. That was good.

"How often do you see your parents, Stewie?"

"Eh, about as often as any adult would--holidays and extended weekends. That's about it." Brian thought about this for a moment, then asked, "And what date is it today?"

"November the twentieth," Stewie answered. "Why?"

"So, it's almost Thanksgiving!" Brian exclaimed. "You can take me with you when you go visit them, right?"

"Um, sure, I guess," Stewie conceded. "I mean, assuming you're still here by then..."

There was a brief moment of awkward silence between the two old friends, before Brian asked a question that had been nagging at him since he'd woken up.

"Uh, Stewie?"

"Yes, Dog?"

"Er, why did you save me?"

"Huh?" Stewie said.

"Back there, in the street last night," Brian clarified. "Why did you take me in? It hardly seems to be your nature to take in naked bums off the street."

"Heh, you want the honest answer?" Stewie asked dubiously. Brian nodded. "Well...it was because I was intrigued to know how an attractive naked man stumbling about in the streets of New York City like a drunkard knew my name. And I was intrigued to know more about this attractive naked man...and um, well, that is to say..."

Brian's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, then shot into his hairline with his epiphany.

"Stewie...are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"What, that I'm gay? Or that I'm physically attracted to you?"

"Uhh...Both?" Brian said uncomfortably. Stewie laughed evilly.

"Don't worry about it, Dog," Stewie said, "it's not as if I'm going to attack you or anything. You're not THAT attractive." Brian scoffed. "Besides, can you really blame me for appreciating your new form? I mean, look at you!"

"Ah, stop, you're making me blush!" Brian laughed, relaxing slightly. "Okay, so, I have one more question."

"What is it?" Stewie asked.

"Just what happened to me? The dog-me, I mean?"

"Oh," Stewie said, pausing and looking down at his now half-empty plate. "You sort of...disappeared one day. We figured you ran away or something."

"Oh..." Brian said, feeling somewhat guilty for some reason, even though he didn't even remember doing anything of the sort. "I'm...sorry, I guess."

"We really missed you, Brian." Another pregnant silence enveloped the duo, until Stewie shook his head and laughed. "All this serious talk! Come on, Dog, eat up. I'm sure you're starved. After breakfast, you can clean up, and I'll try to find some more decent attire in my wardrobe."

"Okay, thanks, Stewie," Brian said, returning to his grotesque display of eating.

(BREAK!!)

Woo! okay, so this chapter was kind of a necessary evil. lots of filler-y goodness. but things are gonna spice up pretty soon!

I've already written out an outline for the next chapter.

See you soon, yeah??


	4. Back to the Ol Grind

okay, so we're going to start delving more into the meat of the plot with this chapter. is everyone as excited about it as me? well?? are you??? of course you are. XD

it took me a little while longer to get a feel for the overall story i wanted to tell (because, quite frankly, i began writing this without the slightest idea where i was going with it lol), and for that, i'm sorry. but i think you guys'll really like the cute lil ideas i was able to cook up.

**_BREAK_**

4.) Back to the Ol' Grind

Oh, no way in hell was Brian wearing THIS in public. As if the low-rise, slim-fit jeans weren't enough, the red tee shirt Stewie had given him to wear was stretched so tightly over his pecs, the circular pattern that decorated the front was distorted into an oval. The shirt was so small, it revealed more than a little midriff, as well as his white-blonde happy trail. Brian shifted from side to side in front of the full-length mirror in his bathroom, staring with furrowed eyes at his flamboyant reflection.

"Are you done primping yet, Dog?" Stewie called through the door. "Some of us have places to be, work to do. Do you hear me in there, Dog? Answer me, I say! Are you coming with me or not?"

"I'm--I'm coming!" Brian called back, biting his lip and staring at his reflection for one more moment before sighing. He turned to the bathroom door and opened it, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of mockery.

"It's about time, dog. Honestly, you're worse than Meg was during her _most_ awkward phase--WHOA." Stewie stopped mid-sentence and gaped, open-mouthed, at Brian. Brian shifted uncomfortably under Stewie's gaze, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. "Oh my god, Dog, even your _happy trail_ is blonde? I didn't notice that when I dragged your sorry ass home in the dark. My god, you've hit the biological jackpot!" Brian scowled at the sniggering redhead before him.

"Shut up," he growled, his face growing slightly hot. "My hair has always been blonde down there."

"True, true," Stewie conceded, "but now it's _hot_."

"Phht," Brian scoffed, but then paused for a moment before saying, "...really?"

"Hell yes," Stewie smirked, waggling his eyebrow cartoonishly. "Most people, even some natural blondes, have icky dark brown pubes."

"Well, what about you?" Brian asked, unable to stop himself. Stewie quirked an eyebrow.

"What about me?"

"Uh, well," Brian started, clearing his throat awkwardly, "I mean, your hair is red. Do _you_ have 'icky brown pubes?'"

Stewie eyed him calculatingly before cracking another smile and asking, "Why do you wanna know?"

"Oh, uh, I dunno," Brian answered quickly, "I mean, you were talking about it, and I was just wondering--"

"I could show you if you want," Stewie interjected suggestively, moving to untuck his pale yellow dress shirt from his sleek black slacks.

"Uh, no, that's, uh, okay," Brian said hastily. Stewie laughed and adjusted his shirt, straightening his red tie and dusting off his black suit coat. The action brought Brian's attention to Stewie's business-not-so-casual getup and looked back down at his own attire.

"Um, are you sure this is an appropriate outfit for me to wear to your office?" he asked sheepishly, gesturing to his body.

Stewie appraised his appearance for a moment and said, "Oh, I'm sure what you're wearing will be fine. This is New York City, you know. Besides, once you get a good look at the garish ensembles some of my colleagues call appropriate business attire, your worries will be assuaged."

"But don't you think this is a little too, um, low...and, uh, high, and tight...and, well...?" Brian stopped abruptly, realizing the insensitive slur that was about to tumble from his mouth.

"What?" Stewie asked, his lips spreading into a knowing smirk.

"Nothing," Brian said quickly, looking down at his midriff and tugging on the tight shirt in a final attempt to stretch it over his exposed abdomen.

"No, what were you going to say?" Stewie pressed, stepping forward and making Brian tense uneasily. "What, that it's too 'gay'?" Stewie finished for him, smirking even wider at Brian's guilty expression. "Oh please, Dog, don't worry about it. I mean, I AM gay. It'd only make sense that I have 'gay' cloths, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose..." Brian said, not really feeling less guilty or awkward.

"Besides, you're right," Stewie chuckled evilly, "You DO look like a total homo. Like a gay cowboy."

"Shut up," Brian growled, punching the laughing man lightly in the arm. "Anyway, there's no way I'm going out in this shirt. I look ridiculous."

"Oh, I dunno, Dog, I find this look quite becoming on your new body," Stewie protested saucily, wiggling his eyebrow suggestively.

"You're kidding, right?" Brian asked incredulously, his blush deepening slightly. "Don't you have any bigger shirts than this?"

"Hmm," Stewie said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I think I may have something a little bigger..."

**_BREAK_**

Brian sighed self-consciously as he followed Stewie down the crowded, noisy streets of New York City in his new shirt: a tight, white muscle shirt with a large skull pattern in the center. The fabric was so paper thin, his nipples could be seen right through it; of course, the fact that the soft material rubbed them into little pebbles didn't help. At least this one covered his bellybutton...but then, if he were to raise his arms in the slightest, this wouldn't be the case.

So now here he was, dressed like a deviant teen, being ogled by passersby. This was hardly the way he thought he'd spend his Friday. Of course, the same could have been said about his current position as a whole: decades into the future, with a new, human body and an adult Stewie as a roommate.

Brian was pulled out of his reverie as he collided into Stewie's back, sending the smaller man sprawling forward. Gasping, he lunged forward and grabbed the falling man, pulling him into his broad chest. Stewie yelped in surprise as he was jettisoned forward and then suddenly snapped right back upright and against Brian's solid form.

"Eh, sorry about that," Brian said sheepishly, releasing his grasp on Stewie's shoulders and blushing slightly in embarrassment.

"W--watch where you're going, Dog," Stewie snapped, blushing slightly as well.

"I said I was sorry," Brian huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm still working on my motor skills in this new body--"

"Shh! Silence, Dog, don't talk about that out here! Do you want people to think you're some kind of lunatic?"

"Well, those people probably already do," Brian said, motioning to a few giggling onlookers. Stewie scrunched his nose at the gaggle of teenage girls gawking at them.

"Hmph," the redhead scoffed, regarding them with his icy, narrow-eyed stare. "They're probably thinking a lot of things about you, Dog, but crazy isn't one of them."

"Oh please--" Brian said, waving an arm dismissively at Stewie.

"You're too modest," Stewie said, smirking at the flustered Dog. "Anyway, we're here now." With that, he gestured at the building in front of which they had stopped. Above the heavy glass doors was an elaborate sign that read 'Griffin, Lowery, and Van Zandt, Attorneys at Law.'

"Wow, ritzy," Brian said, whistling.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Stewie concurred, grinning smugly and crossing his arms. "Well, let's not dilly dally. I've got a client I'm to meet in less than an hour, and I need a little time to prepare. Come along, Dog."

_**BREAK**_

"Whoa." Brian stepped slowly into Stewie's office, jaw scraping the floor as he walked. It was huge, with marble floors and rich wooden walls. A black leather couch adorned with plush red pillows sat to the side, and an enormous wooden desk that was stained to match the walls sat in the center of the room, in front of a gargantuan window that overlooked the bustling streets of New York. Beside the ornate desk was a steel cart, laden with bottles full of different colored liquids, as well as an assortment of glasses: wine glasses, cocktail glasses, highballs, tumblers, etc, were stacked neatly in a row. Stewie walked over to his desk and sat in his plush leather chair, motioning for Brian to make himself comfortable on the couch.

"Stewie, this office is incredible!" Brian exclaimed, sitting on the couch as he was instructed.

"I know," Stewie said, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself. "Would you like anything to drink? A martini, perhaps?" Brian smiled as Stewie remembered his favorite drink, answering, "Sure." He then got up to poor himself one, but Stewie waved at him dismissively, standing to mix it himself.

"Vodka or gin?" he asked, causing Brain to scoff.

"Do you even have to ask?" Stewie chuckled.

"Alright, gin martini it is," Stewie chuckled, rummaging through his supplies. "I thought we could go eat at Jean Georges for lunch today, if that's okay with you."

"J-Jean Georges?" Brian gasped, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. Stewie smirked at Brian as he measured out the gin and the vermouth and poured them into a glass cocktail shaker full of ice.

"Yes, I'm friends with the owner, so--"

"Stewie, you never cease to amaze me," Brian said, shaking his head in amazement. "Are you just trying to impress me?"

"Of course I am," Stewie said, smirking as he shook the contents of the shaker thoroughly and poured the concoction into a chilled cocktail glass, garnishing it with a fresh green olive. Handing Brian the glass, he asked, "Is it working?"

"Most definitely," Brian replied, his lips tugging into a lopsided grin at Stewie's antics as he accepted the drink.

"Mr. Griffin, I ha--Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Brian tore his eyes away from the redhead to face the woman standing in the doorway. A blush adorned her powdered cheeks as she pushed her permed hair out of her eyes and cracked her fire engine-red lips into a smile. Stewie growled and regarded the woman coldly.

"What is it, Francine?" he asked haughtily. "I'm busy."

"Forgive me, Mr. Griffin, I didn't realize you were, um, entertaining company. I have a Mr. Holt on hold for you. He says it's urgent."

Stewie sighed and looked at Brian apologetically. Brian shrugged and nodded his consent, taking a sip of his drink.

"Alright, patch him through," Stewie said to the heavily primped woman, who nodded and spun around on her high heels to leave.

"Sorry about this," Stewie said, picking up his phone.

"Ah, don't worry about it. This is your work, after all. Don't let me distract you." Stewie gave him a calculating look for a moment, as though he were trying to decide if he wanted to say something or not. Brian shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"What?" he asked nervously. Stewie blinked and smirked.

"Eh, nothing," he replied dismissively.

"No, really, what?" Brian pressed, smiling curiously. Stewie eyed him for a moment, then looked down at the phone still in his hand. Shaking his head, he he lifted the phone to his ear.

"Oh, I was just going to say that you make a great distraction," he said, arching his eyebrow and throwing an exaggerated wink at Brian. Brian scoffed and stood up, placing his drink on the side table next to the couch.

"Hey, you mind if I take a little walk around?" he asked, pointing his thumb to the door.

"Sure, Dog," Stewie said distractedly, dialing the phone and sitting back down into his seat. "Oh, there's a breakroom with vending machines and such on the first floor if you get hungry. Here's some money." With that, he took his chocolate brown leather wallet out of his back pocket and threw it at the Dog.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Brian said, turning and exiting the room. As he left, he could hear Stewie saying, "Steven? Hello! Sorry to keep you waiting. Francine said you had something urgent to discuss with me...?"

Careful not to make too much noise, Brian closed the door behind him and peered around the waiting room. It was decorated much like Stewie's office, with matching marble floors and wooden walls. Several matching leather couches, love seats, and club chairs adorned the circular room, and a vintage chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. Francine sat at her receptionist's desk in the nook next to the steel elevators, filing her nails and balancing her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. Brian had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't discussing business. When she noticed him standing there, she quickly finished her conversation with the person on the phone and beckoned him over with a ruby-red finger.

"Hey there, hun," she said, smiling toothily at Brian.

"Hi," Brian smiled back, leaning against the reception desk. "Francine, was it?"

"Yes," the receptionist giggled, fluttering her false eyelashes flirtatiously. "And what might your name be, sweetie?"

"My name is Brian," he said, his smile growing wider. "It's nice to meet you."

"Oh you too, hunny," Francine said smoothly. "So, how do you know Mr. Griffin?"

"Oh, Stewie?" Brian asked nervously. 'Shit, shit, shit!' he thought in a panic. He hadn't talked with Stewie about what they would tell people to explain his presence. "I'm, uh, an old, old friend of his."

"Oh?" Francine said. "College friends?"

"Uh, actually, I've known him since he was a kid," Brian said. "But we haven't seen each other for years. Then I, uh, suddenly found myself in the area, so I thought I'd pay him a visit." Brian smiled inwardly at his little story, proud that it came out so naturally.

"You mean, since you _two_ were kids?" the receptionist asked, pulling Brian out of his internal high five-ing.

"Huh?" he asked in confusion.

"You said, 'since _he_ was a kid.' You can't be much older than him, can you?"

'Wow, this Francine is perceptive as hell,' Brian thought nervously. 'She'd make a great lawyer...We might have to be careful around her.'

"Haha, you're right. My mistake." Brian gave her another charming smile, which she returned in ernest.

"Well, that explains why he let you into his office. He usually makes his boys wait out here when they come to pick him up. It's just so cute that you two came together after all this time! You two make an adorable couple. Will you be staying here long?"

"Oh, I'll be staying indefinitely--HUH?" Brian blushed deeply when he realized Francine's full implications. "Oh, Stewie and I aren't like that--I mean, it's okay to be like that--I vote democrat--and Stewie's a great looking guy and all, and smart and funny--" 'My god, what the fuck am I saying?' "--but he and I are just friends. Honest."

"Okay," Francine said slowly, furrowing her eyebrows and giving Brian a calculative once over. "Well, forgive me for being presumptuous. You're just his type, is all."

"I...I am?" Brian said, trying to ignore his slightly elevated pulse. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," Francine started, "why do you wanna know?"

"Uh, well," Brian stuttered, "I dunno, just curious is all, I guess."

"Hee, relax hun, I'm just teasing you. Well, Mr. Griffin tends to go for the tall, broad types like you. Plus, I've seen my share of blondes walk through this waiting room. Always charming. Always witty. You're like everything he looks for in a man, all tightly packed into one bulging, muscular body," she finished, winking suggestively at Brian.

"Oh, well, that's..." Brian muttered, suddenly feeling warm in his gut for some reason. Francine gave him an unreadable look before smiling cryptically.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Brian, but I'm sure Mr. Griffin will be wondering where you've wondered off to if you don't return to him soon."

"Huh? Oh, sure," Brian mumbled distractedly, fingering the leather wallet in his hand. "I suppose I'll be seeing you around." With that, he forced a smile on his face.

"You too, hun," Francine replied, giving him one last wink before she returned to her work. Brian took this as his cue to leave, and did just that, opting to skip the snack machine and walk back to Stewie's office.

'Oh man, I could really use a drink.'

**_BREAK_**

yay, another chapter finished. snaps for me.

i was going to include stewie's entire work day in this chapter, but it was getting to be a little long, and i didn't want to make it too long to fit in with the other installments, which are all considerably shorter than even this. so i'll give you this much for now, and pick up where i left off in the next exciting installment!

i'm really looking forward to posting the next chapter. i'll be introducing a little drama into the mix, as well as plenty of brianxstewie flirtatiousness!! XD

thanks for reading, i hope you enjoyed. see you guys soon, yes?? rockin.


	5. Silver Foxx

hey friends! i've got another exciting installment here for you--and it's full of dramaaaaaa XD

enjoy--oh, and drop me a line, tell me what you think so far. REVIEWS ARE MY LIFEBLOOD.

**_SPECIAL NOTE TO "GAY COWBOY":_** omai, please forgive me for my insensitive remark! i am a friend to ALL cowboys, gay and otherwise lol

**_BREAK_**

5.) Silver Foxx, aka Guard Dog, aka Good Boy

"Oh man, Stewie, lunch was great!"

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Dog," Stewie said, smirking as Brian repeated his gratitude for the umpteenth time.

"Boy did I," Brian sighed serenely, rubbing his satisfied tummy. Stewie's smirk widened at the gluttonous display.

"You ought to be more careful, Dog," the redhead teased. "Otherwise, you'll lose your hourglass figure." Brian blushed and looked down at his abdomen.

"Yeah, I guess so," he mumbled self-consciously. "I haven't really done any physical activity since I became, well...you know. Maybe I should exercise or something."

"Don't worry, Dog," Stewie laughed, "I was only being a dick. But if you're really worried about it, we could go to Central Park after work today and play frisbee, like old times." Brian perked up instinctively at the mention of his favorite pastime.

"You think?" he asked hopefully. Stewie chuckled at the Dog's sudden enthusiasm.

"Yes, I'm sure we could manage that," he said, earning him an excited yelp.

At that moment, the elevator door opened with a loud _ding_ to reveal Stewie's floor. They stepped off, Stewie in the lead. Brian followed the redhead to his office door, waving at Francine, who winked back as she spoke on the phone. Stewie pulled out his keys and fished out the correct one, inserting it into the lock.

"We'll have to swing by the apartment before we go," he said, tugging the door open. "There, we can change into something more comfortable--" Stewie suddenly stopped, mid-sentence _and_ mid-step, causing Brian to collide once again with his back.

"Ah! Jesus, Stewie, you've got to stop doing that--" Brian began, but then stopped when he realized what had caused Stewie to stop so abruptly:

There was a man standing beside Stewie's desk, rifling nonchalantly through his drink cart.

The man was tall--nearly as tall as Brian--and just as broad. He had dark, near-black hair, which was flaked with silver streaks and gelled sleekly back. He wore a charcoal gray, pinstriped suit, with light purple dress shirt and a plum tie. His eyes were dark and piercing, defined as they were with deep age lines. He was clean-shaven, except for a small soul patch beneath his bottom lip. He looked up when the duo walked in and smiled toothily, revealing two rows of flawless, pearly-white teeth, as well as two deep valley-like laugh lines cutting across his cheeks.

"Stewart," the stranger exclaimed in a deep bass voice, "Long time, no see, eh?"

"You," Stewie gritted, narrowing his eyes to little slits and pursing his lips forward. Brian could only assume that, judging from his suddenly darkened mood, Stewie wasn't as thrilled to see this man as he was to see him.

"Aw, Stewart, is that all you have to say to me, after all this time?" the man asked, smiling sadly and shaking his head.

"How the hell did you get in here?" Stewie demanded, gritting his teeth and balling up his fists.

"Oh Stewart, you hurt me! That's no way to greet your mentor and oldest ally after all these years?"

"Why don't you just cut the crap and tell me what the hell you want?" Stewie spat, flaring his nostrils.

"Why, I'm here to pay my _dear_ old friend a visit, of course. And to discuss a little problem that's been brought to my attention. You've dutifully managed to dodge every one of my secretary's calls, so I just thought I'd drop by."

"It was Francine, wasn't it?" Stewie gritted. "She let you in here, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did," the man said. "She is such a flirt. Charming young woman. But that's not what I'm here to discuss. I was informed that you have been meeting up with Steven Holt on a regular basis--lunch meetings, phone calls, the like--even though you signed a contract upon your leaving Foxx and Johnson, _explicitly stating_ that you forfeit all recruiting rights to our clientele--"

"Those lunches were all purely social, and you can't prove otherwise. I represented Holt during his divorce. We're friends."

"Oh?" the man said, "Well, forgive my skepticism, but I find your story a little hard to believe."

"I don't give a shit what you believe, Foxx," Stewie growled, taking a step toward the man threateningly. Brian, sensing the anger emanating off of the redhead's body, placed a hand on Stewie's shoulder to keep him from advancing further. The action brought the man, Foxx's attention to the Dog. He gave him a brief, scrutinizing stare before breaking out into another brilliant smile.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met before," he said amicably. "My name is Joseph Richard Foxx. Mr. Griffin completed his internship under me at my firm. I taught him _everything_ he knows." Brian eyed the man suspiciously, not fond of the man's word choice. "And you are...?"

"His name is none of your business," Stewie interjected, cutting Brian off. "Now, if you don't mind, I have business to attend to. Please get the hell out of my sight."

Joseph Foxx chuckled darkly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Fine, _Stewie_," he sneered, "if this is how you want to play this game, then I suppose it's inevitable. I was hoping to solve this little problem of ours..._amicably_," Brian's eye twitched, "but to each, his own, I suppose. But if I catch even the _slightest_ hint of fowlplay on your part, will not hesitate to _ruin_ you. I advise you to tread carefully--"

"And _I_ advise _you_ to get the fuck out of here before I break your fucking kneecaps."

Both Stewie and Joseph looked at Brian at his sudden outburst. Stewie quirked his eyebrow. Brian, however, continued to glare holes into Joseph's amused gaze.

"My my, Stewart, your little _friend_ here has about as much tact as you do. You two make a good pair."

Brian's glare faltered slightly as pink tinged his cheeks and the arch of his nose. He refused to break eye contact, however.

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Brian growled low in his throat. "Leave now, or I'll paralyze you." Joseph quirked an eyebrow, his smile diminishing.

"Alright," he conceded, putting his hands up in surrender. "I'm leaving now. Boy, _Stewie_, you've really trained this one well. He makes a great _guard dog_. Loyal...to a fault." With that, Joseph slowly walked past Brian and Stewie, turning around at the doorway.

"I think we will be seeing more of each other very soon," he said, before disappearing through it.

Brian un-tensed and looked over at Stewie, who was staring at him with a kind of disbelieving, lopsided smirk.

"What?" Brian asked, crossing his arms defensively.

"Nothing," Stewie chuckled, walking past him toward his desk, stopping beside him to reach up, pat his head, and say, "Good boy."

"Sh-shut up," Brian said, blushing. "It's in my nature to be protective of my master."

"'Master?'" Stewie repeated, smirking as Brian blushed still deeper.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Stewie laughed, taking his seat behind his desk. "You certainly scared the shit out of him. I half-expected you to start barking and snapping at his fingers." Brian scoffed and flopped down on the couch, throwing an arm over over his eyes.

"Sorry you had to see all of that," Stewie sad, shuffling absent-mindedly through the papers on his desk. "As you can probably guess, Joseph Fox and I are on _less-than-amicable_ terms."

"I'd say," Brian chuckled. "But why? What happened to make you guys hate each other so much?"

"Oh, it's a long story," Stewie said distractedly, waving a dismissive hand at him. "Perhaps one for another day."

"Oh..." Brian said slowly, "Okay." Brian had really hoped he would be able to get some answers about that creep, Joseph. But he didn't want to annoy the redhead, as his livelihood was currently in his hands.

Still...

Brian really didn't like the things Joseph said. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought that he...and Stewie...

Brian shuddered at the thought, then pushed it out of his mind.

"Alright, fuck this," Stewie growled suddenly. "I can't concentrate anymore. Let's get out of this hole and go to the Park." Brian jumped off of the couch at the suggestion and raced to the door after Stewie, completely forgetting his qualms.

**_BREAK_**

woo!! i got this one done pretty quick, yeah? the plot thickenssssssssss...

you'll all be happy to know that i've already outlined the rest of the story, and i think i've got some pretty damn cute scenarios planned for you all.

until next time, yesssss??


	6. Shut Up Dog

a'aight, more brianxstewie fluff for your reading pleasure. fun stuff, yeah?

REVIEW PLEASE! more reviews=faster updates=a much shorter wait for the (whispers) lemon=unbridled happiness

**_BREAK_**

6.) Shut Up, Dog.

Brian ran after the blue frisbee as is soared through the air and past his head. He dove after it and snatched it from the air just before it hit the brown grass. Stewie chuckled as he jogged back with a victorious grin.

"Impressive," the redhead said mockingly as Brian dropped the round disk into his hands. "You know, when _humans_ play frisbee, the catcher usually throws it back." Brian raised an eyebrow and blinked, as though the concept had never crossed his mind.

"Huh, I suppose you're right," Brian conceded. Then he cracked a mischievous grin. "But I think I'd rather be a rebel."

"Yeah, me too," Stewie said, smiling lopsidedly back. Brian felt his heart flutter at the sight. Stewie really had an attractive face. He had not noticed it before, scrunched as the redhead's face usually was in its usual disdainful scowl. When he smiled he looked like a completely different person. His puffy, pale cheeks dimpled at the corners of his naturally pink lips and pushed his eyelids into a squint, giving him a youthful air. His large, green eyes shone with warmth, but still twinkled with his usual mischief. Strands of curly red hair hung down over his forehead and into his eyes, giving him a disheveled, just-been-fucked-silly kind of look. That smile--it was enough to make his breathing falter.

"Uh, you okay, Dog?"

Brian blinked and blushed when he realized he'd been staring. "I'm fine," he said unconvincingly, refusing to look at Stewie's calculating gaze. He could see the redhead biting his lip contemplatively. Then, he cracked another grin--a different sort of grin this time: darker, more mischievous, sexier...

'Wh-what the fuck?' he thought, shaking his head in a panic, 'What the hell kind of thought is that for me to have about _Stewie_? Why is his smile affecting me so much? It's almost as though I'm...'

"Hellooooo? Earth to Dog. Snap out of it, I say." Brian jumped slightly and looked back to the smirking redhead.

"Sorry," he said lamely.

"You seem to keep spacing out, Dog," Stewie chuckled, placing a hand on his forehead. "You sure you're not coming down with something?" Brian smiled back and began to say he was fine, thanks for asking, but was distracted when he heard giggling. He turned to see a group of teenaged girls pointing and laughing at their display. Blushing deeper, he turned to look at Stewie and leaned dubiously toward him.

"Uh, hey Stewie, that reminds me," he said lowly, causing Stewie to lean in as well, so as to hear him better. "Do you think maybe you should call me by my name in public?"

"Why?" Stewie asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, think about it. A grown man--a _lawyer_ at that--calling another grown man 'Dog?' I mean, what are you, P. Diddy?"

Stewie nodded slowly, chuckling at the now long-obsolete reference. "I suppose you're right, Dog--erm, Brian. I'll save the pet-name when we're alone," he added with a mischievous wink. Brian chuckled at the innuendo.

"Let's go sit down for a while and take a break," Stewie suggested, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his forearm and motioning to an unoccupied bench. Brian nodded and followed Stewie to the aforementioned bench, seating himself next to the smaller man.

"So, I was thinking we could start off tomorrow on Madison Avenue," said Stewie, crossing his legs and arms nonchalantly. "We'll see how we fair there and decide where to go from there--"

"What are you talking about?" Brian asked, knitting his brows together in confusion.

"Please don't tell me you've already forgotten," Stewie said, his mouth hanging open incredulously. "Tomorrow's Saturday; I told you I would take you to buy some proper-fitting cloths."

"Oh, right," Brian said. "Sorry, I've kinda had a lot on my mind, you know. What with the new body and all." Stewie smirked at the reply.

"Indeed. We also need to get that shaggy mess atop your head under control. I'm taking you to a barber."

Brian unconsciously ran his fingers over his long, unruly locks. "You think?"

"Yes, Dog--er, Brian, I think."

"Well, what exactly do you plan on doing to it?" Brian asked nervously. Even as a human, he was still jumpy about getting groomed.

"Hmm," Stewie said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Probably just a trim. We'll also have to get you shaved. You look like a homeless person."

Brian rubbed his scruffily chin self-consciously. "Uh, okay then." Brian paused for a moment and said, "We also need to come up with a story to tell people."

"Hmm?" Stewie said inquiringly.

"You know, about how we know each other, and why I'm living with you."

"Right, right," Stewie said, rubbing his chin. "Okay, we met in college--"

"But I already told Francine that we've known each other since childhood," Brian interjected.

"_Fine_. We met in Kindergarten. Your family moved in next door to mine--"

"I'll have to change my name."

"What?"

"My name. I can't go around introducing myself as 'Brian _Griffin_.' It's too much of a coincidence."

"Alright, then, your name is now Brian Jones--"

"Jones?" Brian said, scrunching his nose. "Why Jones?"

"What's wrong with the name 'Jones?'"

"I dunno...It's just so...plain."

"Well, then, _you_ pick a name."

"Alright," Brian said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "How about Brian Adams?"

"As in the famous singer/songwriter who sang (Everything I Do) I Do It for You?"

"Oh, right...Well, what about Brian Williams?"

"You are trying my patienec, Dog."

"Brian Jones it is."

"Good. Anyway, we grew up together, did the best friends thing--you know, clam bakes, double dates, shared a limo at prom, the works. Then I went off to Yale, and you stayed in Rhode Island to attend Brown. Now, after all this time, life somehow brought you to the Big Apple. And since you knew I lived here, you looked me up--"

"Wait, how is 'life' going to bring me to New York?"

"Oh, I don't know, Brian. A failed relationship? Financial ruin? A sudden uncontainable urge to appear in an Andrew Lloyd Webber production? Think of something yourself."

"Um, okay. I guess I can say I quit my job as a Brown lit professor to live a nomad's life. Came to New York to get inspiration--"

"For your _novel_?" Stewie asked with a smirk.

"Yes...asshole."

Stewie chuckled and said, "Okay, fine. Well, you looked me up, we got together to reminisce, you mentioned that you were looking for a place to live for a while, and the rest is history."

"What, I mentioned I needed a place to stay, and you, out of the _kindness_ of your heart, just offered me your spare room?" Brian jokingly sneered.

"Um...yes," Stewie said, "because that _is_ what happened."

"Oh, right," Brian chuckled. "So, um, hey Stewie?"

"Hm?"

"When did you...How did I...When did you tell me you were gay?" Stewie smirked.

"I came out to my family the summer before eleventh grade. Well, really I was outed. Caught in the act, as it were."

"Um, okay. And how did they handle it?"

"Surprisingly well, I must say. They didn't even seem that surprised, to be honest."

"Well, Stewie, to be honest--"

"Shut up, Dog."

**_BREAK_**

woo! another chapter done! *runs a victory lap*

i admit this chapter is a little filler-y. but it was necessary. next chapter, they go shopping together!! XD

i've already got the rest of the story laid out, chapter by chapter. i even know what chapter the (whispers) lemon (un-whispers) will be in. it's a surprise, though.

thanks for reading meh story! i'm glad you guys like it thus far. see you all soon!


	7. Skin

Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! A plane!

No, it's a chapter update!! XD

Enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER:** Is everyone in Family Guy hot and gay? No. So clearly, I don't own it (yet).

**PS:** Thank you to all of my faithful readers/reviewers, and all of you who added Doggy Style to your Favorites/Alerts lists! And thanks for putting up with my slow updates and altogether neglectfulness lol.

**_BREAK_**

7.) Skin

No.

"Hurry your ass up, Brian! I look like a voyeur, lurking outside of the dressing rooms like this!"

Brian shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot in front of the dressing room mirror. He wore a sleeveless white V-neck muscle shirt with a pair of tattered "slim-fit" jeans (which may as well have been labeled "painted on"). On his feet were a pair of worn-in tan loafers that Stewie had lent them (thank God they wore the same shoe size, at least). When he moved, even in the slightest, the muscle shirt rode up to reveal his bellybutton and his blonde happy trail.

Hell no. _fuck_ no. No, no, no, no, no, no, _NO_.

"Brian? Answer me, I say! Unless you're dead, come out of here this _instant_."

"Alright, ,_ alright_!" Brian growled. Stewie was as spoiled and temperamental as ever. Brian unlocked and opened the dressing room door to allow Stewie to see the garish ensemble the redhead had picked out for him.

Stewie's eyebrows shot up at the sight of him, and he instantly burst into a fit of giggles. Brian blushed and crossed his arms. "What's so damn funny?" he growled, peering around to see half of the store's customers and employees watching the spectacle. "You're the one who picked this shit out for me!"

"I-I know," Stewie choked out between giggles, "but I didn't think you'd actually _put it on_!"

"Huh?" Brian said, then blushed deeper. "Oh, you're a dick." He swung out to punch Stewie's arm, which the lithe man dodged easily.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Stewie called behind the Dog as he stomped back into his dressing room.

"That's ironic, coming from you," Brian called back, ripping off the muscle shirt and moving to wriggle out of the skin-tight pants.

"Hardy-harr-harr," Stewie sneered. "Now try on those light-wash jeans with the rips in the thighs. Oh, and match it with that white button up."

"Brian did as he was told, slipping out of the suffocating pants and into the pair prescribed by Stewie. Buttoning the fly, Brian looked at himself in the mirror. The fit was superb. They were somewhat snug, showing off his lean legs and round ass, but still left at least a little to the imagination. He then pulled on the white button up in question: it was a little tight for his liking, but he definitely liked the style of it. The shirt had an elaborate fleurs de lis pattern woven into the fabric, but it couldn't be fully seen unless upon close inspection.

Brian buttoned up the shirt, leaving a couple open at the top. He then rolled up the sleeves to his elbows and made his way out of the dressing room.

"Ah, now this is a _much_ better look for you," Stewie said, leering appreciatively at Brian's form and making him shuffle his feet self-consciously.

"I dunno, Stewie," Brian said, looking down at the tattered fabric on his legs. "Don't they have any jeans that are a little more...intact?"

"Yes, they do."

"Well, can't I try one of them instead?"

"No."

"Wull, can't I--"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't have to. Now go try on the dark wash jeans and the white tee shirt."

Brian returned to his dressing room and changed into his final prospective outfit. Happy to see that the dark wash jeans had a minimal amount of ripping, he pulled them up and fastened them. They sat a little low on his hips, revealing the v-shaped cut of his hipbones. He then pulled the tee shirt over his head and placed his arms through the arm holes.

Once he pulled the hem of the shirt down over his tummy, Brian had to stop and stare at himself for a second. It looked so much like...Well, the shirt's collar was trimmed with red, and the fitted white fabric clung to his body like a second skin...

Skin. No more fur. No more red collar. Just _skin_. He lifted the hem of the shirt and ran his hands over his abdomen--No. Not his hand, not his abdomen. Not his body.

'So, this is it,' he thought, staring hypnotized at his reflection. 'This is how it's going to be from now on--possibly until I die. Never able to return to my old body again. Never able to return to the simple life of a dog again.'

The sheer gravity of his situation suddenly hit poor Brian like a ton of bricks. Sure, he had been weirded out by the situation at first, but he had just kind of rolled with it, pushed it to the back of his head. All this time, he just kind of expected it all to be a dream, and that any moment, he would wake up at the foot of Peter's bed, fur and all.

But this was reality now. These were now his hands--his abdomen. Spooner Street was now the dream.

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?" Stewie's indignant shriek cut through Brian's sombre reverie.

"I--I'm coming," Brian choked, frantically rubbing away the tear which threatened to streak down his cheek with the heel of his hand. He then exited the dressing room.

"Well, it's about time--" Stewie began, but stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Brian's ensemble, blinking rapidly.

"Um, do you like it?" Brian asked uncertainly, gesturing to his ensemble.

"Wow, that shirt makes you look..." Stewie began, his words failing him.

"Like a dog with a red collar?" Brian supplied. Stewie opened and shut his mouth several times as if to reply, but then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Brian's strong neck in a warm embrace, smiling nostalgically. After a brief, surprise-induced moment of hesitation, Brian leaned forward and wrapped his large arms around Stewie's midsection, returning the hug threefold. He could feel Stewie bury his nose in the crook of his neck, and his breathing tickled the dog's neck, raising goosebumps along his pale skin and sending a chill down his spine. He felt his cheeks heat up as Stewie tightened his grip around his neck and pressed his body into him. His pulse began to elevate at Stewie's intimate embrace. He could feel the heat emanating from the redhead's body, and it was affecting him deeply; his body began to heat up inexplicably.

"Uh, so, I take it that you like it, then?" Brian asked, coughing uncomfortably and pulling himself out of the warm embrace.

"Yes, Brian, I do," Stewie answered, straightening up and smiling brilliantly. Brian's breath hitched slightly as the Stewie's hands lingered momentarily on his hips, then again as one hand reached up to wipe the Dog's still tear-filled eye dry. Brian coughed again and smiled embarrassedly.

"Uh, well, I like this shirt too. But I think you're mistaking me for someone with the build of a twelve-year-old. This shirt is too tight."

"No, it's not," Stewie replied, smiling lopsidedly, "it's just tight enough." Brian felt a blush creep over the bridge of his nose as he smiled at the redhead's antics. That damn smile again...

"Um, can I help you two with anything?"

Brian tore his eyes off of Stewie's to look at the saleswoman addressing them. She wore a toothy grin and a name tag which read "Tiffany."

"We were doing just fine on our own," Stewie said with an air of disdain. "Now if you'll excuse us--"

"Actually," Brian cut in, "I could use your help. I was wondering if you have these in a larger size--?"

"He doesn't _need_ a bigger size," Stewie growled dismissively, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt anything--" Tiffany said, smiling nervously at the redhead's glare.

"Don't mind him," Brian said, stepping between Stewie and the saleswoman. "He hasn't been changed and burped yet. Now, if you could bring me this one in a large--"

"You don't _need_ that in a large," Stewie huffed, grabbing the button up out of Brian's hands and folding it. "Honestly, Brian, I don't understand why you want to cover up your body so much. If I had your build, I would wear nothing but a watch and a sign around my neck that read 'ten inches.'" Tiffany blushed and giggled at Brian's mortified expression.

"Okay, okay, I'll just leave this one up to you two lovebirds. Just let me know if you boys do need anything, okay?" With that, she walked away, leaving the two blushing men in an awkward silence.

"Heh, funny, how she thought we were, you know, together," Brian said nervously, shuffling his feet.

"Oh, yeah," Stewie said, smirking at Brian's poor attempt at segue. "Funny."

Another awkward silence.

"Soooo..." Brian began, "What else did you have in mind to do today?"

"Oh," Stewie answered. "Well, we need to get you a couple of suits, because starting Monday, you're going job hunting. Then I thought we could grab a bite to eat. After that, we're going to my barber. I'll have you groomed and presentable yet." Brian ran his fingers self consciously through his shaggy mop and over his scraggly chin.

"Alright, if you say so," he said reluctantly.

"Good Lord, Brian, you're not a dog anymore," Stewie laughed. "We're not going to get the crap cut out of your coat. We're just going to get you a trim and a shave."

Brian punched Stewie in the arm, trying not to smile.

**_BREAK_**

You know, I hadn't meant to take this in the direction I did. It was going to be just cute and fluffy and silly. But I didn't think I had given enough attention to the fact that Brian's in a new body, and that he should probably be more shocked.

Plus, I figured it was time to push Brian and Stewie's relationship in a slightly more serious direction. So far, everything up to this point has kind of digressed into some cute flirty scene. I wanted them to have a serious bonding moment, followed by a cute flirty scene lol.

A'aight, thanks for reading, and thanks for all the enthusiastic encouragements!

_**Be sure to drop a line on your way out, yeah??**_


	8. Whoa

Okay, so mad props and chocolate chip cookies go to **TourmalineTrue** for being the only person to realize that Brian's pseudo-last name is actually the same as mine!

Ehem, onto more serious things. I broke my laptop screen! And it's been rough, coming up with the dough to get it fixed. And I had my outline for the rest of the story, as well as half of THIS chapter typed up on it. Sooooo, I just decided to hell with it all. I'm borrowing my sister's computer, and I'm going to continue to write this anyway, with or without my outline! THAT'S how much I love my faithful readers!

OOH, and to make it up to you for the long wait, I decided to throw in a hot little scene that I was actually saving for NEXT chapter. Enjoy.

_**Disclaimer:**_ If I owned Family Guy…Well, it would probably suck. So thank God I don't, yeah?

_**Warnings:**_ slash, LEMON!, SOLO!, language, and my usual shenanigans!

A'aight, folks, enjoy!

_**BREAK!**_

8.) "Whoa..." AKA "Parties and Revelations"

Brian muttered angrily to himself as he leaned up against the corner of the living room, stirring his martini haughtily. He peered around the room, which was packed with Stewie's clients and coworkers, who were all milling around, drinking, and making small talk with one another. It was Saturday night, and Stewie was throwing an office party. Most of the attendees were old—like, super old. Walkers and hearing aids and the like. A few women were there as well, though not as many as there were men, and most of them seemed to be clients or wives of lawyers. He spotted Francine charming a group of middle-aged (male) clients, who all burst simultaneously into uproarious laughter at her (apparently) funny story.

Stewie, however, was nowhere to be found.

'Where the hell is he?' he thought as he tugged uncomfortably on his stiff new shirt collar and slightly loosened his new red necktie.

Francine, spotting him sulking in his corner, waved daintily and smiled. Brian grinned and waved back as he watched her pardon herself from her audience and make her way over to him.

"Hey there, hon," she greeted brightly, giving him a little side-hug which he happily returned. "How you doing?"

"Oh, I'm good," Brian answered politely, but not convincingly.

"These kinds of parties not your thing?" she asked sympathetically.

"It's not that," Brian said. "It's just that I haven't seen Stewie in a while…" he finished, trying not to sound sulky. "You haven't seen where he's gone off to, have you?"

"Actually, I think I saw him go into his bedroom with Stephen Holt about twenty minutes ago," Francine supplied.

Brian felt his heart sink at that. How could Stewie leave him in a room full of strangers to do—well—_that_? (Brian tried to tell himself that was the only reason he was upset.)

"Wait," Brian said as it suddenly dawned on him that he had heard that name before. "Stephen Holt…isn't that the name of the client from that guy Foxx's firm? The one that he's all pissed about Stewie talking to?"

"Oh, I dunno, Sugar," Francine laughed. "I'm just a secretary here. Mr. Griffin doesn't exactly confide his personal business in me."

"Or me, either, apparently," Brian said bitterly. "What the hell is he even doing, talking to that guy? He could be putting his entire career in jeopardy—"

"You really care about Mr. Griffin, don't you?" Francine suddenly interjected. Brian blinked, then blushed.

"Well, I guess you could say that," he stuttered, "I mean, of course I do. I've known him since he was—since I was—we were kids, but I don't care, like, a _creepy_ amount or anything. I mean, sure I care like any friend would, and he _did_ put a roof over my head—"

"It's okay that you care about him," Francine laughed, ending Brian's flustered, nonsensical rant. "I really think that he needs more of that in his life. I mean, he rarely makes time to see his family, and his work keeps him too busy to make long-lasting relationships…except you, of course, and his clients. I think he needs something—someone—to come home to, to greet him every day. Someone constant and stable. Someone he can count on to be there for him. As a friend, of course," she added teasingly.

"Oh, um…" Brian coughed, feeling his heart warm at the prospect of being that for someone—for Stewie. He felt himself swell a little with pride.

"Huh, I really _am_ a good guard dog," he thought aloud, chuckling to himself.

"You could say that," Francine agreed, giggling. She then peered over Brian's shoulder. "Oh, look, here come Mr. Griffin and Mr. Holt now."

Brian turned around to see Stewie and a middle-aged man walk out of the redhead's bedroom, shake hands in a business-like manner, and part ways. It seemed they had merely gone into his room to discuss some sort of business in private. Brian tried to ignore the feeling of relief he felt when he realized their meeting was of a platonic nature. Stewie, spotting the two of them, waved and began to make his way across the room, being stopped occasionally by his many colleagues and clients.

"Look, sweetheart," Francine said quickly, "Mr. Griffin is good at what he does. One of the best. He became a partner of this firm in just five years, which is no small task. If he is speaking to Mr. Holt, I'm sure that he has legitimate reasons. And if he doesn't…well, then I'm sure he is being careful. Mr. Griffin has his ways of bending the rules a bit."

"He does, does he?" Brian muttered darkly. Francine nodded in affirmation just as Stewie reached them, accompanied by an elderly man in a green sweater vest and a polka-dot bow tie.

"Brian, there you are. This is Mr. Van Zandt, one of my partners. He's a Brown alum, just like you. I thought you might like to meet him. Stanly, this is Brian—"

"Stewie, may I please talk to you for a moment? In private?" Brian interjected tightly. Stewie blinked in confusion at Brian's apparent annoyance, but then nodded.

"Forgive me, Mr. Van Zandt," Brian said politely, "but I have to discuss something urgent with _Mr. Griffin_ here."

"Here, Stan, why don't we go refresh our drinks?" Francine piped in, taking the man by the arm and leading him away. "Mr. Griffin has a well-stocked liquor cabinet…"

"What's the deal?" Stewie asked huffily, once the pair had retreated out of earshot. "I was trying to show you off to my coworkers—Hey!" he yelped as Brian grabbed him by the forearm and dragged him through the crowd and into the master bedroom, not letting go until he had closed the door behind him.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Dog?" Stewie huffed indignantly. "Speak, I say!"

"Were you really just in here talking to Stephen Holt?" Brian demanded. Stewie blinked in surprise, then shrugged.

"Yes. So?" he said nonchalantly.

"Stewie, that's the guy that Joseph Foxx warned you not to talk to anymore—"

"I am well aware of who he_ is_, Brian," Stewie interjected in a bemused tone.

"Then why the hell are you still talking to him?" Brian demanded.

"Because he is an old friend," Stewie answered. "An old, _rich_ friend, and a serial divorcee. And I hear his current marriage is on the fritz, and he could use a…a shoulder to cry on," Stewie finished with a smirk.

"Damnit, Stewie, why are you doing this? That Foxx guy didn't sound like he was bluffing. He could come after you, your firm—"

"Thank you for your concern, Brian, but it's hardly necessary," Stewie interjected flippantly. "I know what I'm doing. Holt approached _me_, and he is free to choose whomever he wants to represent him. Foxx's contract stops me from recruiting him, and I've done no such thing."

"But—"

"I said, I know what I'm doing, Dog, and you are starting to try my patience. I have a room full of guests waiting for me, so if you'll excuse me—"

"_Fine_," Brian growled, pushing past the redhead and storming into his own room, closing and locking it behind him.

_**BREAK!**_

Brian awoke in a foul mood the next morning, still pissed from the night before. He'd been plagued by dreams of Stewie being thrown in jail, of him losing his job at the firm…

Of Stewie in the arms of Joseph Foxx. Brian cringed at the memory of that particular dream, then promptly pushed it to the back of his mind. He forced himself out of bed and found a pair of sweats to put on. He had taken to sleeping in the nude, as he was still growing accustomed to wearing cloths, and nighttime was the only time that he could do without them.

He then brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his freshly-cut hair. It wasn't much shorter than it was before—it still reached his shoulders—but it was layered just so, making it hang in a much more pleasing shape around his face. The cut allowed his hair to curl more easily, too. He had to admit it looked pretty sharp, and the trip to the barber wasn't…_that_ bad.

He opted not to put a shirt on and left the room, joining Stewie in the kitchen. He had not talked to him since their verbal spar the night before, and he wasn't really sure what to say.

He found Stewie sitting at the breakfast nook, reading the Sunday paper and drinking coffee. He was wearing a fitted wife beater and his same red pj bottoms which he wore every night. He peered over his paper when he heard Brian enter.

"Morning, Dog," he said casually, before returning to his paper. Brian frowned at the redhead's cool exterior, but turned to pour himself a cup of coffee for himself.

"Morning," returned awkwardly, adding several scoops of sugar to his coffee. Brian secretly liked a lot of sugar in his coffee, even though he told people he took it black.

"There's some instant oatmeal in the pantry, and fresh berries in the fridge," Stewie said abstently as Brian sat down next to him at the table. "Unfortunately we're out of eggs and bacon, not to mention a few other staples. I think I'll make a run to the grocery store this evening. You're welcome to hang out here while I'm gone—"

"Damnit, Stewie, enough with the cold shoulder!" Brian suddenly cried. "I'm sorry I yelled at you about Stephen Holt last night, okay? Please just stop with the coldness!"

Stewie stared at him over his paper in surprise at his sudden outburst. He then chuckled.

"Cold shoulder? You're still bent out of shape about that? Come on, Brian, we've had much worse fights than _that_. I'm just distracted, reading the paper."

"Oh…" Brian said sheepishly. So he had imagined the whole coldness thing? He slumped down a bit in relief. Stewie eyed him calculatingly.

"This thing with Foxx is really bothering you, isn't it?" he asked contemplatively.

"Well, yes," Brian answered shortly. "I don't like that Foxx guy. He doesn't seem like the type to pussyfoot. And if you keep persuing Holt—"

"I'm not persuing him," Stewie corrected cheekily. "I'm merely reminding him of his options."

"Whatever. The point is, I don't want to see you get hurt." Stewie smiled.

"I know you don't, Brian. And I won't. I know what I'm doing, and I'm being very cautious."

"Okay…" Brian said slowly, still not convinced. "Just—just promise to be careful, Stewie."

"I will," Stewie said confidently, turning back to his paper.

"Like, reeeeeeeally careful," Brian pressed. "Like, helmets-kneepads-bulletproof-vests-kind of careful."

"Dog, I've already told you that I _am_ being careful!" Stewie said in an exasperated tone.

"I know," Brian said, "but I just worry about you. I don't want you to get sued or lose your job—"

"Oh! That reminds me," Stewie said, perking up suddenly. "I got you a job interview."

"Really?" Brian exclaimed. "Where? When?"

"Well, I've got this client named Tim. He was at my party last night. Anyway, he's been a substitute teacher for upward of twenty years now. He told me he could arrange a meeting for you and his school's principal for tomorrow morning."

"Oh, man, that sounds _perfect_, Stewie!" Brian said excitedly. "But wait…Don't employers generally ask for birth certificates and ID?"

"Generally, yes," Stewie said absently, not looking up from his paper. Brian felt a wave of panic crash over him.

"Well, what the hell am I gonna do?" he demanded.

"Whoa, calm down, Brian—"

"How can I calm down? In case you haven't noticed, I don't have _any_ of these things—_"_

"Oh, you will," Stewie said calmly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"And how is that?" Brian asked, exasperated.

"Relax, I'll take care of it," Stewie answered cryptically.

Brian somehow didn't feel comforted.

_**BREAK!**_

Brian lay restlessly in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was a blur with doubt and concern.

When Stewie had returned from the grocery store, he had handed him a freshly printed birth certificate—with _his_ name on it. And when he demanded to know where he had gotten it from, Stewie just replied that he "knew a guy."

'All of this shady, seedy, under-the-table stuff is going to catch up to him,' he thought nervously. 'I don't like all of this stuff that he's doing.'

Deciding not to think on it anymore, Brian pulled out a book he'd found on Stewie's bookshelf and began to read…

_**BREAK!**_

Brian awoke with a start when he heard his bedroom door creak open. His book was draped over his bare stomach; he'd clearly fallen asleep reading. The door swung open to reveal Stewie standing in the doorway. He was wearing his wife beater and red pj bottoms again.

"Oh, hey Stewie," Brian said sleepily, rubbing some of the sleep out of his eyes. "Is there something wrong?"

Stewie smiled evilly and shook his head 'no.'

"Then what do you need?" Brian asked impatiently. "I was kind of asleep, you know. I've got to wake up early for that job interview…" Brian trailed away as Stewie's smile broadened and he took a step forward. Brian gulped, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong, Stewie?" he pressed, closing his book and placing it on his bedside table. Stewie nodded, then placed his knees on the edge of the bed, climbing onto it. Brian's heart leapt in his chest as the redhead began to crawl slowly up the bed—and up his outstretched legs—stopping when he was straddling his lap.

"Stewie, what the hell are you doing?" Brian squeaked in a panicked voice. Stewie shrugged with a lopsided smirk and leaned into him, nuzzling his face into Brian's neck and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"You haven't fully explored and utilized _every_ appendage on your new body yet, have you Brian?" he asked smoothly, pressing his slender hips into his victim's. Brian shivered as Stewie's hot breath ghosted over his neck and grabbed hold of the redhead's hips in an attempt to still them.

"I—I don't understand," Brian stuttered breathily as Stewie began kissing and sucking on his neck.

"Well, I thought you might need some instruction and guidance on how to use _this_," Stewie said, emphasizing his last word by snapping his hips forward, grinding his erection against Brian's growing one. Brian grunted in surprise and arousal, gripping tightly on Stewie's thighs, but no longer trying to stop his movements. Stewie chuckled against his neck and ran his hands from his shoulders to his chest, where he began to rub rough circles against his nipples with his palms, causing them to perk up. Brian released a groan and unconsciously pushed his hips up against Stewie's in response. Stewie moaned low in his throat and began to grind harder into him, swaying his hips in a circular motion.

"Ugh, Stewie, Brian groaned as he tentatively began to roll his hips forward in response to Stewie's ministrations.

"Yessssss, Brian," Stewie moaned in appreciation. "Just like that…" He threw his head back, tossing his red curls about sexily. Brian groaned and gripped tighter to Stewie's waist, full on humping him at this point.

He was so close…

_**BREAK!**_

Brian awoke with a jolt, sitting straight up in a panic.

"Ohhhhhh my god," he groaned as he recalled his hot dreaming starring Stewie. Flashes of the redhead thrashing and moaning on his lap pierced his brain, making him flush in embarrassment and shame. He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands…

…Which brought him eye-to-eye with his little problem.

He was sporting a rather sizable erection, which was making a tent in his quilt. Groaning in discomfort, he tried to will it away. However, his mutinous brain kept flashing images of a certain redhead arching and throwing his curls around, making his cock throb once more. He groaned again at the need for release.

'Well,' he thought nervously, 'I guess this isn't going to go away until I…_alleviate _the pressure…"

Brian sighed, defeated, and threw off his covers. He looked down at his naked form, namely his engorged cock. It was long—he guessed around seven to seven and a half inches—and fairly thick. The girth was even from the base to the mushroom head, and it curved smoothly up toward his belly button. His balls were slightly hairy and tautly hung. His pubic hair—all blond, of course—was curly and a bit unruly.

'I really need to groom down here,' he thought self-consciously. He exhaled nervously and wrapped his long fingers around the base, squeezing it experimentally. His cock throbbed again, sending a short little wave of pleasure through his stomach and causing him to release a little moan. A small bead of precome pooled at the tip.

'Okay, so far, so good,' he thought as he slowly began to work his fist up and down the organ. He sighed in pleasure as his palm rubbed up and down his shaft. Feeling adventurous, he brought a free hand up to his chest and began to rub and pinch at his nipple, just as Dream-Stewie had.

Suddenly, images of Stewie doing this to him flooded his brain, causing another surge of pleasure to course through him. He allowed the images to bombard his thoughts, imagining the redhead was still sitting in his lap, fisting his hot cock just like he was doing to himself. He imagined Stewie taking him into his mouth, sucking and licking on the leaking head. He ran his thumb over the tip, just as Stewie's tongue would, gathering up his precome and spreading it over his shaft to use as a lubricant.

"Ugh, Stewie…" he moaned under his breath, speeding up his hand with the precome's aid. He began to wonder what Stewie looked like doing things like this to himself. He pictured Stewie in his bed, touching his own cock and moaning. He imagined the redhead playing with his asshole, putting his fingers inside and fucking himself—

"_Uhhhhh!_…" Brian grunted in surprise as orgasm suddenly shook through his body. Hot ribbons of come spurted out of the tip of his steel-hard shaft as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. Brian continued to jerk his hand up and down his erupting cock as he rode out his orgasm, milking himself of the last of his seed.

Finally, panting, he collapsed back onto his pillow, spent. He looked, wide-eyed, at his hand, which was now wet with his essence, then looked down at his chest, which was splattered with more of his come.

"Whoa…"

_**BREAK!**_

Whoohoo, another chapter finished! That was pretty hot, no?

I have to say, this is the longest I've ever gone in a story without incorporating some sort of sexual act! I'm more of a PWP writer, mehself XP. I'm kind of proud. Is it weird that I actually felt more comfortable writing THIS than id have writing most any other chapter?

…Eh, it's whatev. I hope you all, erm, ENJOYED this installment. *wiggles eyebrows*

Let me know what you all think of it on your way out!

I believe our dynamic duo will be visiting the family in the next chapter, so that should be a pretty interesting little scenario, don't you think?

I guess you'll all find out when you tune in next time!

Tootles!


	9. Thanksgiving

Hey readers! Long time, no see, yeah?

First off, I'm going to take a moment to share some exciting news with you all: _Doggie Style!_ has officially surpassed 100 reviews! I'm so happy that people seem to be enjoying my fic, and I just wanted to thank all of you for the nice words you've said.

Alright, you guys didn't subscribe to read my gushiness; you subscribed to read some hardcore pr0n! Hehe. So without further ado, I present the next exciting installment of _Doggie Style!_

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ I own nothing but a used laptop, a pirated copy of Microsoft Word, and a sick mind that's perverted enough to think a baby and a dog would make a cute couple.

**BREAK**

9.) Thanksgiving, a.k.a. More Revelations

"Will you stop _fidgeting, _Dog?" Stewie hissed, elbowing Brian in the ribs as they pulled up to Spooner Street.

"I'm sorry," Brian muttered, trying to control his leg from bouncing rapidly as it had been doing for the last two hours. "I'm just really nervous."

"About what?" Stewie asked absently, cutting off an old woman in a hatchback as he rounded the corner.

"You know about what," Brian spat, violently twiddling his thumbs together.

"Dog, I'm warning you, if you don't stop that I will ram your side of the car into a street lamp," Stewie growled. "And what do you have to be nervous about? You should be thrilled. Lois and the Fat Man will shit a rainbow when they see you."

"Yeah, or they'll call the cops to pick up this strange maniac claiming to be their dead pet dog," Brian said sardonically. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course I am, Brian," Stewie said. "We'll convince them to believe you. Or if we don't, I have plenty of money to bail you out of jail."

"Thanks, douche," Brian scowled, looking out the window. That's when he saw it: the yellow house with the red door. The yellow paint was faded with age, and the roof was missing a shingle or two.

"Hey now, don't take this out on me," Stewie scolded, pulling up in front of his childhood home and parking is Benz. "I'll remind you that this was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah," Brian conceded, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the passenger seat. He shook out the wrinkles in his black pinstripe slacks and buttoned up the front of his matching vest. "Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?"

"Because," Stewie sighed, tugging down his crimson and mustard argyle sweater-vest and walking around the car to join Brian, "they're your family, and you miss them, and we're already here. Plus, they're the only people on earth who will believe your story."

"Do you really think they'll believe me?" Brian asked as they walked to the red door, now warped and faded to a sort of orange hue.

"Of course they will," Stewie said matter-of-factly. "They've seen much weirder shit than a talking dog being reincarnated into a hot young body." Stewie smirked as Brian had the decency to blush. "Peter has Death's cell phone number on speed dial, you'll remember."

"Right," Brian sighed, running his fingers nervously through his hair. Stewie slapped his hand away and licked his palm to smooth down Brian's mussed hair. He then reached for the collar of the Dog's crisp white button-down shirt to tighten his red tie. It was Brian's turn to slap Stewie's hands away this time.

"Will you stop that, Mother?" Brian snapped as Stewie smirked up at him.

"Well I wouldn't have to if you would stop ruining all the hard work I put into making you look presentable tonight," Stewie quipped.

"Yeah, yeah," Brian growled. "Just ring the damn doorbell already."

"You sure you're ready?" Stewie asked teasingly. "You sure you don't want to just stand out here for another hour, fretting about whether or not your long-lost family will recognize you?"

"Don't test me," Brian warned, barely concealing the small smile Stewie's antics elicited.

"Alright, alright," Stewie conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. "Jesus, Dog, you're no fun when you're nervous."

"You gonna ring the bell, or what?" Brian asked, gesturing at the red door in front of them.

"Why, I'd be happy to," Stewie said, raising his pointer finger in a grand motion and reaching it toward the doorbell.

Of course, he did not reach the bell before the door was suddenly swung unceremoniously open by none other than Lois Pewterschmidt-Griffin. Brian froze in shock at the sight of the object of his wildest fantasies, now graying with age. Her once-red hair was now streaked with silver, and her once-perky bosoms sagged slightly. Her face was littered with age lines and crow's feet.

And she was beautiful. Brian felt his pulse quicken at the sight of his best friend's wife, remembering the passionate fantasies that haunted him in his previous life. He then realized that he had not had such thoughts since he awoke naked in that alleyway. As a matter of fact, his fantasies seemed to be much more fixated on _another_ certain redhead as of late. Blushing, Brian recalled his many filthy dreams featuring Stewie—of them in the shower, of them in Stewie's office, of them in the backseat of Stewie's Benz…. The list of what his traitorous brain (and cock) wanted to do to Stewie went on and on.

He then suddenly felt immensely guilty for his thoughts, as though he were…_cheating_ or something. But on whom? Brian didn't want to think about it.

"Stewie, my baby!" Lois exclaimed, lunching forward and grabbing her reluctant son around the neck for a hug. Stewie grumbled his greeting, not pushing his mother away but refusing to return the embrace. After several seconds, Lois finally relented her grasp and turned to face Brian.

"Stewie, you didn't tell me you were bringing a friend," she said, smiling brilliantly at the Dog. "And who might this handsome young man be?"

"Oh come on, Lois, don't tell me you don't remember one of our _oldest friends_," Stewie said with a smirk. Lois furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, searching Brian's face for some hint of familiarity.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't—"

"it's me, Lois," Brian said, taking a careful step forward. Lois snapped her head to look at him, astonished.

"How do you know my—"

"Well, it appears Mother's memory is failing her," Stewie chuckled. "Care to refresh it?"

"It's me," he repeated. "It's Brian."

Neither Brian nor Stewie could lunge fast enough to catch Lois as she fainted.

_**BREAK**_

Unsurprisingly, Peter took the bizarre news much better than his wife. He welcomed Brian and Stewie with a clap on their backs, then led them to the dining room, where they were now feasting on turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and every other Thanksgiving staple imaginable.

Brian looked around the table at his family, taking in the sight of them. Chris was still husky like his father, but with much better style than he had in his adolescence: he wore a crisp white button down with a royal blue sweater-vest, along with crisp khaki slacks. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal two impressive tattoo-covered forearms. He still had his gold hoop earrings, along with a few more piercings along his lobes; his blonde hair, which was no longer stuffed beneath a baseball cap, was cut and styled in a long, shaggy-chic style. On his feet he wore a pair of faded black Chuck Taylors.

He then moved on to Meg, who had blossomed with age. She had ditched the Harry Potter glasses for contacts, which revealed her surprisingly pretty brown eyes. She had also grown her now-silky-smooth brown hair out so that it reached down to her mid-back. She wore a flattering pink halter-top dress with a lacey off-white sweater that revealed her figure nicely. Her acne had cleared up, and she was actually wearing makeup. She was almost as beautiful as her mother was at that age—almost.

"Holy crap, Brian, I never thought I'd see the likes of you again," Peter said through his mouthful of turkey and cranberry sauce. Brian turned his attentions to appraise his old friend, whose appearance had remarkably not changed one bit (save for the sparse grey patch of hair and the occasional laugh line on his face). He donned his usual white button-down and green slacks, and he hadn't lost—or gained, for that matter—a single pound. "What with you goin' off and disappearing on us."

"Oh, right," Brian said sheepishly, staring down at his half-demolished mountain of food. Even though he had not been there for it, the thought that he had run away and hurt his family filled him with no end of guilt and remorse.

"You know, Dog, I got to thinking about that," Stewie said. "Maybe the reason you disappeared isn't because you ran away, but because you were kidnapped, transformed, and magicked here to the future."

"Oh, that makes a lot of sense, Stewie!" Lois said excitedly. "Brian, what's the last thing you remember before you became human?"

"Well," Brian muttered, racking his brain for some fleeting memory, "I remember I was watching Stewie that day…. We had been fighting about something—"

"Oh, that could have been any day," Stewie huffed in slightly exaggerated exasperation.

"Yeah, but this one was different," Brian said. "You said I—well, we had a really big fight."

"What did I say?" Stewie demanded. "Out with it, Dog."

"Well," Brian sighed hesitantly, "you said I wasn't really a part of the family because I was 'just a dog,' and as soon as I died, you would all just get a new dog and name him Brian."

"Oh," Stewie said after an awkward pause. "Well, kids say the darndest things—"

"Don't worry about it," Brian interjected. "I kind of egged you on. I was trashing all of your research and experiments. I called it all 'pseudo—'"

"'Pseudo-scientific bullshit!'" Stewie finished with a grin and a small laugh.

"Yeah, and that you'd be better off designing elaborate Nerf guns."

"Well, I guess I showed you, didn't I?" Stewie said with a smirk, gesturing at himself.

Brian smirked back. "I guess I showed you too," he said, gesturing at his new body in the same way that Stewie had.

"You certainly did, Brian," Stewie agreed, his smirk softening to a compassionate smile, which Brian returned two-fold. He felt a warmth spread through his chest—that damn warmth that spread through his chest every damn time the redhead smiled at him like that. He felt his ears begin to heat up, and finally broke their long gaze.

"Anyway," he continued, clearing his suddenly dry throat, "after that, I went to the Drunken Clam to blow off some steam. I ran into Death there, and we got to drinking, when—" Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence, slowly turning his eyes up to face Stewie, who sported the same expression of open-mouthed shock.

"Oh my god," they both said in unison.

"What, what is it?" Meg asked fervently.

"Dog, tell me you didn't," Stewie pleaded.

"Didn't what?" Chris asked urgently.

"Well—" Brian began sheepishly.

"Will someone just tell us what the hell you guys are talking about?" Lois near-shouted.

"That idiot—" Stewie jabbed a finger at Brian across the table— "told Death about our fight, and Death played a cosmic joke on him!"

"Huh?" Chris said dumbly.

"Well, I guess I sorta told Death in my drunken stupor that I wished I were human—"

"And Death went and reincarnated him as a human!" Stewie finished with a screech.

"Wait, can Death even do that?" Lois asked incredulously.

"Well, he did send me back to the eighties to re-experience all that wild sex I had in my youth that one time," Peter said.

"What?" Lois asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Look, there's only one way we could possibly know," Brian said matter-of-factly. "We'll have to call up Death and ask him."

"Well, okay," Lois conceded. "But not till after we're finished celebrating Thanksgiving. As a family."

Everyone around the table smiled and nodded in agreement, then went back to devouring their platefuls of food.

_**BREAK**_

"So tell me, Chris," Brian asked as he served himself a third helping of pecan pie, "do you have anyone special in your life?"

"I don't really have time for any special lady other than my artwork," Chris said flippantly. "I'm working on a collaboration with Grant Morrison right now—"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Brian interjected excitedly. "Grant Morrison as in the writer of _Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth_?"

"Yes," Chris answered in a deliberately casual tone. "You've heard of him?"

"Of course! I'm really impressed, Chris."

"Thanks, Brian," Chris said with a big, goofy grin, breaking his pretentious act.

"What about you, Meg?"

"Well, I've been dating this guy," she said with a smile, "his name is Dave. He used to work with me at the high school, until he got promoted to principal at a different school. We've been going out for the last five months. I tried to get him to come to Thanksgiving with me, but his family is on a ski trip together."

"Oh yeah, and you really believed that shit?" Stewie said meanly. "That's just code for, 'I'm a pussy who's too afraid of commitment to meet your family."

"Not that it's any of your _business_, asswipe," Meg snapped, "but I helped him load his ski equipment into his parents' SUV, right after we had our pre-Thanksgiving celebration."

Brian choked on his pecan pie as he attempted to hold back a burst of laughter. Stewie cut eyes at the shaking Dog, glaring holes into the side of his face.

"What about you, Brian?" Lois asked. "Have you met any beautiful young ladies since you've gotten here?"

"None as beautiful as you," Brian answered automatically. Then he felt it, just like he had before, on the front porch. That intense wave of guilt, like he was being unfaithful to his lover by saying such things. But that, of course, was ridiculous, because he didn't have anyone to cheat on—right?

"Oh, heheh, thank you," Lois said uncomfortably.

"Honestly mother, how could you expect him to be looking for someone? He's been human for, what, two days?"

"A week, actually—" Brian interjected.

"Che, whatever, Dog, you can barely even use your arms and legs properly yet, let alone your—"

"Stewie! What's gotten into you?" Lois exclaimed.

"Nothing, okay?" he snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at the wall. "I just don't think Brian should be thinking about girls right now."

"But I'm not," Brian said simply. Stewie looked up at Brian's sincere face for a moment, before returning to staring daggers at the wall just past his head.

"Well…good," Stewie grumbled lamely, still not done sulking.

"Ehem, well, we should probably work out the sleeping arrangements," Lois finally said after a tense period of silence. "We weren't expecting you, Brian, and Chris has already called claim to the couch, so—"

"Really? What happened to his bedroom?" Brian asked in genuine curiosity.

"We turned it into a storage room," Lois answered sheepishly. "Anyway, you'll have to sleep with Stewie—"

"Wait, what?" Brian exclaimed, unable to repress the panic in his voice.

"You'll be sharing Stewie's old bed with him," Lois repeated, slower this time. "I just figured, since you're living with him, you'd be more comfortable there—"

"Yeah, and you won't exactly fit at the foot of our bed anymore, what with your new body and all," Peter added with a chuckle.

"That's fine with you, isn't it, Dog?" Stewie asked with a sadistic smirk.

"Well, I mean, of course it is, but—"

"Then it's settled," Stewie said, stretching his lithe body out. "We'll share a bed for the night." Brian watched Stewie's every graceful movement with slightly wide eyes. The way his back arched when he stretched. The way his face filled with pleasurable pain as he worked out the kinks in his taut muscles. The way he smirked at Brian like he just _knew_ the sick thoughts running through the Dog's head at that very moment.

'Oh crap…"

_**BREAK**_

Wellllll, I think this is a nice little break point. The next chapter will go one of two ways. Either I'll write about Brian and Stewie's night sharing a bed, or I'll just skip ahead to the next topic on my list. Hmm, decisions decisions. What do you guys think?

_**Don't forget to review!**_


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